“I don’t want to see your tits, just show me your bag,” said the security guard to the girls with purses at the front gates of City Park. I smiled at my warm, New Orleans welcome to my very first Voodoo Music Experience. As a Shreveport native, I’ve grown up only hearing about the marvels of music festivals in New Orleans. My family’s conservative, strict ways and safety priorities prevented me from attending the live action until finally, as a journalism sophomore, I was able to fully immerse myself into the authenticity of Voodoo Fest 2007. With an array of expectations, I followed the aromas of shrimp po’boys and crab cakes and the down-home sounds of the Jamie McLean Band to find an atmosphere almost identical to that of my imagination. I was initially attracted to the merchandise tents, where I found the hysterical plethora of pipes and stash hats to be perfect fits for the event. Surrounded by palm readers, pot smokers, good food and perfect weather, I could only think to myself one thing, “This is Voodoo Fest.” I made my way to the main stages where I soaked in the vibrations of every performance. I tried to blend with the mellow attendants who lay on blankets in the grass. From the quirky personality of Motion City Soundtrack to the smooth and soulful sounds of Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals, I remained shoulder to shoulder with fellow music lovers, who by the end of the night seemed much more to me than complete strangers. Coheed and Cambria’s performance gave me my first taste of a free-for-all metal concert as I witnessed my first mosh pits and crowd surfs. I was pleasantly surprised and emotionally touched by Sinead O’Connor’s performance. Her delivery offered a spiritual experience, which raised goose bumps up my arms as I watched other free spirits with their eyes closed and hands in the air. The highlight of my experience was witnessing Ben Harper’s intriguing talent from only six rows back. At the sight of my most idolized artist of the weekend, I – like the thousands of other carefree people – forgot about everything else except my escape into a raw performance. I felt my heart beat faster as Harper passionately expressed his cry for a better world. With his fists clinched and eyes squinted shut, Harper encouraged the crowd to make the world a better place singing the line “with your own two hands” to a repetitive melody. At this moment, I had the revelation that music festivals are beneficial not only for entertainment but for freedom of speech and emotional liberation. This spirit stirring image will forever remained stamped in my mind. I manned my ground for The Smashing Pumpkins for only two songs. Innocent and scared, I donated my spot to a bigger fan as I fled from the violent mosh pits. I should have been frustrated with my 10-minute escape route through a tightly packed, stoned and drunk non-budging crowd. But I finally found the open air leaving behind the adrenaline rush of the night with my fellow Voodoo Fest goers who stood in awe of The Smashing Pumpkins. With a full moon overhead, I left the heart of New Orleans filled with a gratitude to the culture, people and artists that made Voodoo Fest what is was – a soul’s escape into the magic of music.
—-Contact Lindsay Gallmann at [email protected]